


We Can Always Find Eachother

by posideoin



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6081666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posideoin/pseuds/posideoin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where John is a parrot and James is a crew member on an unnamed pirate ship. They fall in love even if they don't know it. They always find each other.</p><p>Reincarnation!AU thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Always Find Eachother

It starts like this. It always has. 

Once, John was a crab, and it was much too difficult to find his way around the huge world he lived in. He was only a tiny thing. No one's eyes even gave him a second glance, and when they did, they decided wholeheartedly that colliding their dirty old boot with his fragile shell was how they would greet him. He never forgave that man. After that he was a parrot. This life was a lot easier, he had an indescribable amount of freedom, the wind in his feathers. He was never anything like that again though, so it is something he looks back on with a burning envy.

When he was a parrot, he found it most pleasant to soar across the sea. Locking his eyes on the occasional ship, staring longingly, wondering if one day his wings might bring him to lay down gently on the damp wood of the mast. He dreams that someone might make a friend of him, instead of barreling their hatred and force towards him, as they always had. No one had any reason to do that now. He was beautiful, stunning, his coat shone different colors as his feathers layered themselves over his fragile skin. They should gawk at him, is what they should do.

And so they did. He had done it, once or twice now, let himself land at the very top of a ship's mast. Let himself look out over the water as if he was a human, standing, searching for sails in the great distance ahead. He heard mumbles below him. They would smile at him, point and take a moment of their day, stop themselves in their labor just to enjoy his presence. He couldn’t imagine himself being anything other than a parrot. People cared about him when he was a parrot. That was all that he wanted. A life where people weren’t compelled to kill him. A life where people cared.

One day, he decided it was time he try and make a friend. He saw a man, he look no more rich nor poor than any other man. He was on a ship. John couldn't know if he was a captain, or just crew, but it made no difference to him. It was dark, but the night wasn't scary. Not tonight. Tonight, the night was beautiful. You could feel it's darkness surrounding you like a blanket, it felt like something that would keep you safe, something that would not raise a finger towards you. Night's like these were John's favorite.

The man was alone on the deck of the ship. John imagined everyone else was asleep, and yet this man was still here, awake, his back leaning on the wood of the ship with a tiredness John had never seen before. He was sitting down, and looked, from this distance, like he was going to tilt over. Moving closer, John could see now that the man was drinking. There was a bottle of rum in his hand, which was laying on the floor of the deck. If john knew anything about people when they're drunk, it is that they are not to be trusted. But this man. John could tell that he was different.

The first night, he moved so that his body was just over the side of the ship. He made a loud noise, beautiful in nature, that caught the man's attention. He had looked deep in thought, but when his eyes made contact with the beautiful colors of Johns coat, the way his feathers shook with the force of the wind as he flew at almost the same speed as the ship, his eyes changed. It seemed as if he was in awe. He could look no where else than at the bird all night, and John stayed. He liked the way he could feel the mans eyes on him. His piercing gaze. He let him stare until he fell asleep, and then John left; but not without memorizing the others face, and the look of the ship he was on.

The second time John found him, he was in the same position. He seemed to like that part of the boat. It was shielded from the wind, and it was cozy. John could understand. This time, though, the boat was not going fast enough for him to fly the same speed as it. It was only just gliding across the top of the water, moving at a rate much slower than something John could ever fly at. So he decided he would land. His claws dug themselves into the wood just opposite the man. He made his sound. The mans eyes raised from looking at the floor below him. When his eyes made contact, John could see a sort of hope. It was a gaze that John knew he would never forget. Not in any lifetime that he ever had. He made a sound again. It seemed music to the man's ears. He blinked wearily as a small smile crossed his lips. John made two sounds then, one right after another, and the man chuckled. John liked seeing the man happy, and he decided from that moment on, that he wanted to see no more of the top of this man's head, only this. Only his smile. He only wanted his laughter.

The third time John found him, it was a few days later, and he was in the same spot. This time, to John's surprise, he had no bottle in his hand. There was something that moved inside of him in that moment. Almost a motherly pride, a happiness. He landed softly this time, so that the man would not hear him. His eyes were locked with the sky. There were no clouds tonight, so the stars were as bright as they would ever be. John loved the reflection of them in the other's eyes. It looked as if they were swimming in the dark of his pupil, small lights, shimmering there. It should be where they always are. They belong there. John could feel it.

He allowed the man to acknowledge him at his own pace. His eyes didn't start looking down until a few minutes later, when they finally settled on John. His feathers prickled a bit. The man, this time, looked a bit confused. John can understand why. First, its nothing, just a bird passing by on its way to another far away land, somewhere better. Second, its coincidence. The bird found its way back, it went in a circle. It's lost. Third, is when it gets weird. The man is probably wondering why John is here. Is there food someone on the boat? Why does he always land opposite him? John could only wish that he could answer his questions. Instead he made a noise.

The man's eyes couldn't move from John's figure. John stayed. He assumed, that maybe the man might do something. Shoo him away, or move somewhere else with the feeling that he is being watched. Instead, the man stood from his spot, looked around to see if anyone was on the deck with him, and when he came to the conclusion that no one was, he spoke. “I'm going crazy, aren't I?”

John could feel his eyes narrow. No. You're not crazy, why would you be crazy? He squawked towards the man, to which he replied, “And I haven't even had a drink tonight.”, with a small chuckle following it, before he made his way behind a door. John imagined it was where he could go to sleep. He didn't like the way they parted that night. John didn't like the idea that this man thought himself crazy. John was there, truly. He was not some figment of the man's imagination, as John was sure he thought. He felt a hatred in his stomach. He wanted to change that.

He had a plan the next time he came. This time, it was morning, and the rest of the crew were out and about, doing their tasks as they were meant to. John stayed hidden from their views until he saw the man he was here for. He left from the bottom of the boat, closing a sort of trap door behind him as he emerged. John did not do anything immediately. Instead he watched for a bit. He could tell the man was only part of the crew, with the rugged clothes he had to wear, and the laboring tasks he had to preform throughout the day. John came to the conclusion that he liked watching the man work. He would do it more often.

Snapping himself out of the sort of trance he had himself in, John shook his head from side to side. He allowed his wings to begin detaching themselves from the side of him, shaking them a bit too before he flapped them once, twice, making a small noise in the back of his throat. He took off, flapping his wings with vigor until they caught the wind. He flew over the top of the boat, and made the loudest sound that he could muster from his small lungs. He heard 'oo's and 'ah's from below him. When he lowered his eyes he saw fingers pointing. He felt proud in this moment. Mostly, proud that the man he had come for was watching him in awe as he flew ahead of the boat, as if leading it. If his eyes lingered longer than any of the other men's, John decided he wouldn't think about it too much.

The next time John came, the man looked as if he was waiting. His eyes were more concentrated. Less open. John didn't know if he liked it. The man's eyes caught on his feathers immediately. He watched as John landed, shaking his body a bit to get comfortable, and let his feathers settle in a nice way. He met the man's eyes. John didn't like the tension that there was between them now. He liked it when the man would laugh and smile when he saw John, not this. Not a gaze that has a wall behind it. John made a sound, something nice, and pleasing to the ears. The man had no response. 

After sitting there for a few more minutes, a few minutes filled with nice songs that John decided to sing, if only to fill the silence, the man spoke. “I feel like I'm going crazy, because this is the fifth time that I'm seeing you.” John's heart swelled at the sound of the man''s voice. It was almost as pleasing to the ear as his own, if not more. He shook his entire body, his wings moving a bit as he moved both of his feet, almost in a little dance. The man chuckled, but caught himself in the middle of it. “You can't understand me.”

John let his head bob from top to bottom, a loud sound coming from his mouth. “I'm seriously getting old, aren't I?” the man laughed, and John let his head bob from left to right this time. That was when both of their lives changed, and John would say, for the better.

The man started talking to him. He told John his name, James Flint. He told John about his life, about why he comes out onto the deck every night instead of sleeping, about how his wife has cancer, about how she had a miscarriage only a month ago, about how he had to leave her, about how devastated they both were when they found out, about how they need money. About how he has no choice but to be out here. John listened to every word James spoke, sometimes even made sounds to spur him on, keep him talking. John couldn't get enough of his stories, or his voice.

John made it a habit to come back as much as he could. Sometimes James would have rum with him, sometimes he wouldn't. James would talk for hours on end. He had an infinite amount of words to speak, and he spoke them so eloquently. He had endless stories to tell. Tales of being out on sea, tales of before he came here, fairy tales, myths, legends. John was happy he could give James a chance to speak. John could tell that he needed it. That he liked it. It made John happy.

Sometimes, James would look at him, as a parrot, and tell him to recite a story for him. It made John laugh, but he tried his best. He would jump around on the wood, making weird sounds, imitating other animals as best he could. The roar of a lion as he lowered his body as if he was going to pounce. It made James laugh, sometimes even cackle. John loved it. Loved the sound, the way his face crinkled with it, the way his face turned a shade redder when he couldn't stop himself. John was happy. For once, John was happy with a life he had been given. He couldn't dream of any other life he would want, when this one meant so much to him.

It was a week later when John came back again. He was still himself, and an animal. He had his own things to take care of and his own things to tend to, and so it took a while for him to get back, even as much as it pained him to not see James. He'd left in the morning, the wind cool and at almost a perfect temperature. When he found the boat, it was night. He was relieved when he saw the sails in the distance, he had almost given up hope that they were still on the same path that James had told him they were on the last time he'd seen him. But here he was, lading gently where he always did.

Something was different. John knew it the second he saw James body language. His knees pulled up, his head buried between them and a bottle of rum stuck to his hand. It looked as if he had been there for hours already, John didn't know what to do. He made one of his sounds, one that James' eyes usually crinkled at, a small laugh leaving his lips. This time that didn't happen. Instead, John heard a rumbling, deep “Go away.” from the shivering man. It was cold, and he had nothing but thin, ripped clothes on. John felt helpless. He wanted to speak, to ask what was wrong. The best he could do was to make a sound that sounded inquisitive.

James head lifted at that, his eyes were red, puffy. John's heart rang. “Go away, you're an animal, for fuck's sake.” John was offended. Sure, he was a parrot, but that didn't make his thought process any different than any one else's. He stayed, and made another sound. It took a while for James to speak to him, but John had no problem with waiting, so when he did start to speak, even if it was muffled by his entire head being covered, John listened intently. “My wife. She's dead.” He rasped, “Died yesterday from her cancer. She had no chance anyway I don't know why I even though I could do something-” John squawked loudly towards James, more than once.

The news was devastating, of course, no one should have to live through having one of their loved ones taken from them, but John though that James was being selfish. Of course you're going to think that you can help. Someone will believe anything when told that someone has cancer. This will help them? Get it. That will? Get that too. James has no reason to doubt the reasoning he had for being out here in the first place. John can see the guilt on his face, when he brings it up every once and a while to take a swig form his bottle. John hates it.

He lets the air catch on his wings just a bit as he jumps down from the edge of the ship, something that he'd never done. They had never been closer than how they had just been. This was an exception. John might be a parrot, yes, but that doesn't mean he doesn’t know how to comfort someone. Waddling towards James, John could tell that he hadn't even noticed yet. When he was close enough, John let his head rest lightly on the calf of James leg. As soon as James felt the weight, the hand that was holding the rum came down, and it crashed itself into John's body. He flew back a bit, hitting the wood floor with a thump. It hurt him. But he knew the pain he felt from that was nothing compared to the pain James was feeling.

John squawked loudly and batted his wings until he lifted himself onto the shoulder of James. A broken man. He didn't move. John could only feel the shaking of James' shoulders and the soft whines coming from his mouth.

John left when James fell asleep.

He couldn't know for sure, but John felt when James' soul left the earth. He knew how James had gone without having to think twice. 

John himself died weeks after, from natural causes.

*  
* *

It wasn't long before they found each other again. Even if this time, things were different. John had lived through many lives, and not once did he forget James Flint, the sailor who could talk for miles. He would have lied if he'd said he hadn't gone searching for him with every new form. He never found him. Not until now. Not until James was his captain.

John Silver was his name, and he just so happens to be a very good cook.


End file.
